


Letters

by casandraderolo



Series: Rich Centric Stories [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Child Abuse, Implied Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-04 07:52:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11550795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casandraderolo/pseuds/casandraderolo
Summary: Rich writes letters





	1. Chapter 1

> Dear Mom. 

I was eleven when you left, and I went by a different name.

 

I was eleven when you left, and dad still said that he loved me.

 

I was eleven when you left, and Thomas was still around constantly.

 

I was eleven when you left.

 

I was eleven, when you killed yourself.

 

I was eleven, and I remember that day, and five years later, like it had just happened.

 

You were supposed to come to my dance recital and you never showed up.

 

You always showed up.

 

I was eleven, and I remember that dad had to work late that day, and Thomas was at a friend's house for a birthday party.

 

I was eleven, when I walked into the house and I found you.

 

I was eleven years old mom.

 

I was eleven years d and you knew I would be the one to find you.

 

I was eleven years old mom.

 

Why would you put me through that?

 

Mom… you knew I was going to be the only one home that night.

 

Mom.

 

I was eleven years old and I screamed so loud, Brooke Lohst from two blocks over heard me.

 

I was eleven years old when I came home to an empty home to find you lying dead in a pool of your own blood.

 

I was eleven years old, and Thomas heard me scream from two blocks over and came rushing to see what had happened.

 

I was eleven years old when the police took you away in a body bag.

 

Mom, I was eleven years old.

 

I was eleven years old, when you ruined everything.

 

I was eleven years old when dad started to drink.

 

I was eleven years old when Thomas throw himself into his school work, and didn't have time for me anymore.

 

I was eleven years old when I learned how to make my own dinner.

 

I was eleven years old when I learned how to pay rent.

 

I was eleven years old when dad first hit me.

 

I was twelve when I didn't care that he hit me anymore.

 

I was twelve when I didn't care that dad had lost his job.

 

I was twelve when Thomas told me that when he turned 18 he was gonna join the military.

 

I was twelve when I didn't feel right.

 

Please don't get me wrong mom, I don't hate you , I never could.

 

And please know that I don't blame you anymore. I know better now.

 

I know that it wasn't your fault that you were so sad all the time.

 

I know that mom, but it still hurts.

 

It fucking hurts to know that this all stemmed from something that you seemed so in control of.

 

Mom it hurt to know that you never got to meet your son.

 

You never got to meet the real me and I hate that you didn't get to met me.

 

I hate that you only knew Rachel, and that you never knew me.

 

So I guess, this is me introducing myself to you mom.

 

Hi. Im Rich. I'm your son.

 

I know that you would accept me for who I am.

 

I love you mom, and I hope you know that, wherever you are.

 

And, it took me a while to forgive you, and to realize why you had done it, and even though I will never really understand, at least I know that you live me.

 

And j know that you love me too.

 

Your Son,

Richard Goranski


	2. Chapter 2

> Dear Dad.

 

It actually physically hurt me to write that.

 

It hurt me to call you that because you don't deserve that title.

 

The dad that I knew and loved died when mom did.

 

The dad who still loved me died when mom did.

 

The dad, who I called dad, died when mom did.

 

You aren't dad anymore.

 

I have a dad again, and it's not with you.

 

You aren't dad anymore.

 

You're just Robert now.

 

I have somebody else to call dad.

 

This dad is way better then you could have ever been.

 

He cares about me.

 

He never  _ hit _ me.

 

He never called me the wrong name.

 

He never forced me to be somebody I wasn't.

 

I'm not Rachel, Robert. 

 

My name is Rich and you can either accept me or not.

 

I'm done with you. 

 

I still have Thomas.

 

I still have Mom.

 

I don't need you when I can have a new brother with my old one.

 

I don't need you when I have a dad who actually loves me.

 

I don't need you Robert.

 

I don't need you to be my dad anymore.

 

Fuck you Robert.

 

You were an asshole anyway.

 

Sincerely, Your  _ Son, _

Richard Goranski


	3. Chapter 3

> Dear Dad.

 

It makes me really happy to call you that, Mr. Heere.

 

I haven't had a real dad for so long, and I don't know how to thank you.

 

I was just a kid, who showed up on your doorstep, bloody and beaten, and you took me in without a second thought.

 

I didn't know that was possible.

 

I didn't know it was possible for a dad to love you.

 

And then you took me in.

 

You didn't care that I was afraid of candles.

 

You didn't hit me when I woke up in the middle of the night screaming.

 

You didn't scream at me when I had days where I wouldn't leave my bed all day.

 

You didn't care that I had a different name then the one I was born with.

 

You didn't care about my flaws and imperfections.

 

You took care of me.

 

I don't know how to thank you dad so, I'll just write you this letter.

 

I love you dad. 

 

Thank you.

 

Love,

Rich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Heere definitely took in Rich after he found out the situation he was in. Fight me.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr  
> [main](http://callme-jakey.tumblr.com/)   
> [bmc side](https://transjakobdillinger.tumblr.com/)


End file.
